You are the april day of the world

Chapter 2 Prose (2)
Is it really true to cherish all kinds of activities produced by human beings, the so-called human culture?What exactly does this human culture rely on?We suspect that it may be the feeling of the spirit and the body in the human body, the emotions aroused by the physiology and psychology, a series of behaviors inspired, and a little bit of wisdom accumulated—then a little bit of human performance.Everything in the universe is objectively nothing to cherish, and the mountains, rivers, plants, animals, and animals reflected in human nature begin to have beauty, temperament, and harmony.Not to mention the man himself reflected in human nature.Without human feeling, human emotion, even if there is nature, there is no natural beauty, quality or divine aspect, let alone human wisdom, human creation, and all expressions of human life art!In this way, who should despise a little trip of their own feelings?In order to strengthen our courage, we should believe that only when human beings have this kind of emotional gallop, the real world will continue to produce the essence of cultural relics on which our spirit rests.

At this moment, I can actually cough slightly, and even say in the mellow tone of the broadcaster:
Since we undoubtedly cherish culture, that is, we respect all kinds of art from ancient times to the present—whether it is the art of abstract thought, or the specific unnatural image created by using natural materials—then we have no doubts about the origin of art. Human feelings, human emotional wisdom (commonly known as human emotions), how to cherish them is reasonable?
But the gallop of emotion is clearly not the completion of poetry or painting or any other artistic construction.Although this gallop now occupies a certain amount of time in my life, it does not occupy any small place in the space!This situation needs to be fully understood.At the moment it is only a traceless flow, without a dwelling form.It may contain various or palpable qualities, but the task of curiously exploring this quality and expressing it concretely, whether meaningful or not, is powerless for anyone but oneself.At this moment, for a piece of clear and pleasant sunshine, I clearly know that I am paying attention to various associations of inner communication and changes. In other words, this attention of curiosity and interest is already an activity of my life at the moment.A kind of force forced me to grasp this activity and try to express it. This impulsion that cannot be suppressed, or the so-called artistic impulse is unknown!I just remember that the calm Du Gongbu took a walk and looked at the flowers, and it was inevitable that there would be an emotional disorder of "the river is completely annoyed by the flowers, and there is nowhere to tell, just crazy"!The exquisite and warm sunshine shines in front of people, and the touching power of that beauty is no less than that of flowers. I am not allowed to divide my emotions into two kinds of leisure and reality, and decide their importance before deciding whether to choose or not.I, too, had only an emotional turmoil.

Emotional travel is an accidental thing. Today it was not for the sunshine at noon in early spring, and it is still for it now.There are two kinds of extravagant lights in the room that often make my mind tense like flowers blooming, taking advantage of the breeze of feeling, the shades are scattered among the branches and leaves of Lengzhi.

One is candlelight, with tall pedestals, long hanging candle tears, and raging red flames. When the curtain falls around, the light and shadow are hidden everywhere.That kind of flashing bright, elegant and ancient, is obviously a scene in the painting, but it contains more poetic elements.The other is the noon sunshine in early spring. At that time, large films will be scattered all over the room intentionally or unintentionally. When a piece of sunlight shines into the room, it needs the elegant backdrop of the fragrance of pens, inkstones and flowers to be moving. What I mean is: as long as a piece of sunlight falls on it so quietly and freely, everything will bring another A moving breath.

Here I want to talk about the piece of sunshine I first knew.I was six years old that year, and I remember that it was just after the water drops—the water drops are common chickenpox, but they are called water drops in my hometown.At that time, I liked that beautiful name very much, and forgot that it was a disease, so I also felt a kind of mysterious pride.As long as people pass my window and ask if there are "drops of water"?I feel an honor.That feeling is still imprinted in my mind.It is also for this reason that I remember the extravagant pleasures of my illness.Although it was the same as many other illnesses, I was still alone and imprisoned in a house to recuperate.It was the last house in our old house; white powder walls surrounded a small courtyard, and there were three rooms in a row on the north side, with an open hall in between.I was sick in Dong Niang's bedroom.The west end is my aunt's house.My mother and my aunt will always perform their women's duties in the grandmother's front yard, so I am often the only remaining owner of these three houses.

Being sick in those three rooms was an embarrassing experience.Time flies by very slowly, especially in the middle of the day when there is no sleep.At first, I only focused my sense of hearing on things that looked like footsteps, but didn't seem like footsteps.Guessing, waiting, hoping for someone to come.Occasionally, I could hear all kinds of trivial sounds from the partition wall, which were conveyed from under the base of the wall and then subsided.

After a while, I became impatient-I don't remember how, so I tiptoed and walked to the door next to the wooden bed.The door of the room opened obliquely towards the hall, so I held onto the door frame and looked out curiously.

At that time, it was about two o'clock in the afternoon, and a table of the Eight Immortals was standing in the middle of it very lonely.Under the table, a piece of sunlight coming in from the entrance of the hall poured down there harmoniously.An absolutely silent surrounding accompanied by this soundless golden crystal, for some reason, suddenly caused a very unusual vibration in the heart of my six-year-old child.

There are not many tables and flowers, and the layout of art is just a very ordinary Eight Immortals table.If my memory is correct, there was a very common and frugal lunch such as salted fish and pickles on display not too long ago.But the child's heart froze.Perhaps the eyes are opened a little wider, looking around, as if looking for the answer to a question.

Why is that piece of sunshine so beautiful?I remember that I climbed to sit on the table in front of the window in the room, and looked out the window intentionally or unintentionally. The sparse shadows of the white walls in the courtyard were completely different from the golden warmth in the room.By the way, I opened the old-fashioned mirror box for my mother's dressing, and shook the small row of drawers up and down, and the small copper pendant carved into a flower basket, listening to the crisp birdsong from time to time.But there is still a vague doubt in my heart because of the sunshine.

After more than 20 years, until today, it is such an elusive, unfathomable, flowing and tranquil treasure, that I realize that my question will never be answered.In fact, that's all: a lonely table, a lonely corner of the hall.A clever mirror box, or the intermittent birdsong outside the window, and water drops - the name of the beautiful child's illness - just happen to be the most natural thing in my memory forever and slantingly with the quiet sunshine of early spring Lenovo.

published in
September 1946, 11 "Ta Kung Pao Literature and Art Supplement"

Mourning Shima

On November [-], our good friend and beloved new poet, Xu Zhimo, who was abrupt, unbelievable, and brutal, died in distress on a plane.This news hit the hearts of many friends like a needle on the morning of the [-]th, making the sky as dark as ink that morning, and sobs of mourning choked everyone's throats.

Zhimo...death...who ever thought of linking these two sentences together!He is such a lively person, such a person who has just stood on the peak of his prime.Friends are often amazed at his activities, his childlike spirit and earnestness, who would have thought he would die?
Suddenly, he bursts out of our common world and sinks into eternal silence, without giving us a hint of warning, a bit of preparation, or a last chance of hope.How many friends' hearts were shaken and numb by this kind of resoluteness that was almost cruel?Now that undeniable fact still relentlessly blocks our way.No matter how painfully we mourn his tragic death, and how eagerly we hope to still be able to touch his original voice and appearance, the fact is that he will not change a little to be considerate of our grief; There is a possibility of a little activity!This embarrassing eternal silence and depression is the cruelest part of death.

We are not superstitious, we look at the veil of death irreligiously, and we are not at all sure.Opening our mouths we will not appeal, closing our eyes will not fall into dreams, wandering on the edge of reason and emotion, we cannot predict what will happen later, for this death, we are just forever stunned, swallowing bitter tears; waiting for time to exploit the sharpness of mourning , scabbing the wounds of every time we mourn.Didn't many friends who got the news at the beginning of the afternoon all go to Mr. Hu Shizhi's house?But apart from wiping away their tears and sitting in a silent circle, no one had any idea, and no one knew what to say, to die!
No one has an idea, no one has anything to say!Facts do not allow us to place any hope, emotion does not allow us not to mourn this sudden misfortune, reason does not allow us to have supernatural fantasies!Facing each other silently, sitting around silently... and Zhimo still died without looking back, without hearing from him, never looking back, and never hearing from him again.

There is no one among us who absolutely believes in the theory of fate, but facing this unpredictable life, who is not surprised, and facing the traces of many facts, how can he not feel the fragility of manpower and the limitation of wisdom.Is there a definite number in the world?Is it all by chance?When will we be fully sure of this eternal question?We have nothing but hard facts before us:

"Yes, he has a telegram to me on the nineteenth morning..." Nineteenth morning, yes!Said to arrive at Nanyuan at 04 o'clock in the afternoon, and sent a car to pick it up... "The telegram was sent from Nanjing Airport at 30 o'clock..." It was sent just after he started flying... "Sent a car to pick it up, and waited until [-]:[-]... ... Said that the plane did not arrive... "It did not arrive...the airline said that Jinan was foggy... very heavy..." It was only an hour's difference; when we arrived at Nanyuan at [-] p.m., Jinan was foggy! There can be so many different facts, Shima, my friend!
I still saw him the night before he left. At that time, he didn’t know that he was traveling south in the morning. The plane had been rescheduled three times. He once said that if he continued to change, he would not leave.He and I came out of the same tea party and we parted ways at the entrance of Zongbu Hutong.In this tea party, we invited Dr. Bailey, who came for the Pacific Conference, because he is the sister-in-law of Man Shufeier, the female writer that Zhimo admired most in his life. The shadow of Manshufeier's early years, because of the limited time, we hurriedly dispersed after tea.In the evening I went out on a date, and when I came back very late, the servant said that he had come again, just as our couple had just left, so he sat for a while, drank a pot of tea, wrote some words on the table, and left.I went to the table to see:
"The flight will be scheduled at six o'clock in the morning, and the fate of this trip is uncertain..." I was stunned, feeling unhappy for a while, but hurriedly called him.

"Don't worry." He said, "It's very safe. I still want to save my life to see greater deeds. How can I die?"

Even so, he has been dead for two whole weeks!

All Zhimo's friends, I believe, understand what it is like to lose a friend like him!

Now this fact is getting stronger, more fixed, more undeniable every day.Zhimo is dead, this simple and cruel fact has already added the color of time, one week, two weeks, and it keeps increasing... I shouldn't be talking incoherently here, just groaning about the sadness that we are friends.

In the final analysis, readers read with our words in mind, that is, like Zhimo’s invitation to Bai Lei, they want to hear something about Zhimo from us.I understand this, but I'm afraid I can't satisfy you, because there are too many things about him, which are touching and let the young people know that there is a rare personality here, and it is by no means that a few thousand words can express it all.No one has to admit that there are not many people like him in the world, whether in China or abroad.

I know him for ten years this year, when he was at the London School of Economics and had not yet gone to Cambridge.The first time I met him was the first time he knew Mr. Tickenson who influenced him to move to school.Needless to say, he and my father got along the most, although there was not a small difference in age between them, they became friends as soon as they met.After he arrived in Cambridge, he was introduced to the Royal Academy by Ti Gengsheng. At that time, his classmate was my sister-in-law Wen Junyuanning.Until the last two months, Yuan Ning often told many jokes about him at that time, even though it was a joke, it was also his first surprised impression of Zhimo.Zhimo's earnest poetry does not contain the slightest falsehood, and his ignorance and childlike innocence can be surprising.Yuan Ning said that one day when he was studying in the school building, it was raining cats and dogs outside—only in an island country like England—suddenly he heard someone knocking on his door, and jumped into a rainwater Get wet guests.Needless to say, he was Zhimo, and as soon as he entered the door, he dragged Yuan Ning and ran out, saying, "Come on, let's go to the bridge and wait."Yuan Ning was stunned by this, and he asked Zhimo what he was waiting for in the heavy rain.Zhimo opened his eyes wide, and said happily like a child, "Look at the rainbow after the rain".Yuan Ning not only said that he would not go, but also advised Zhimo to change out his soaked clothes as soon as possible, and then put on a raincoat to go out. The humidity in the UK is a joke, and Zhimo ran away without waiting for him to finish speaking!
Later, I curiously asked Zhimo whether this story was true, and he smiled and nodded to admit the truth of the whole story.I asked: What about the following, how long have you been standing on the bridge and waited, and did you see the rainbow?He said he couldn't remember but he actually saw the rainbow.Surprised, I interrupted his description of the rainbow and asked him: How did he know that there must be a rainbow.He answered me with a smug smile: "A completely poetic belief!"

"Completely poetic faith", I'm about to cry here!It is because of this "poetic belief" that he insists on taking advantage of the convenience of aviation to achieve his long-cherished wish of "wanting to fly"! "Airplanes are safe," he said, "and if something happens it's my fate!" What a completely poetic faith he had in fate!
Zhimo, my friend, death is just a new journey. If we have never been there, we can’t help but doubt too much. Death may be more painful than this life. “We can’t easily conclude that there is no sunshine and human comfort on the other side.” But as I said before, the most embarrassing thing is this eternal silence.We are born in this age without religion, and we are too uncertain about this death.I am afraid that many days of missing you from now on will be full of dark misery, and there will be no light at all, unless I also have your beautiful poetic faith!

Forgive me, my friends, for my personal sorrows have again disturbed my clear recollections of his life.

I don't need to say more about the poet's Zhimo, his many poems are the scales for evaluating him.The history of our new poetry is so short, I am afraid that his judgment is still among our children and grandchildren.What I want to talk about is Zhimo who is not a poet.People say that Zhimo's behavior is just casual romance, and Zhimo's poems are all lyric poems. This assertion can be said to be fair to people who don't know him, but from the perspective of his friends, he is really sorry for him.Zhimo is a very eccentric person, romantic of course, but the essence of his personality is his sympathy, kindness, and kindness to others; Such emotions, he absolutely can not sympathize with.I don't say understand, because don't many people like to say that Zhimo is the most incomprehensible?I said that his characteristics are also in this.

Ordinary people like to talk about understanding; if we can understand, we will sympathize, and if we don't understand, we will be indifferent or even cruel.We consider it appropriate to express sympathy for what we can understand; we also consider it fair not to express sympathy for what we cannot understand.Zhimo is not the same, whether he understands or not, he does not exaggerate too much, he only knows tenderness, peace, and consideration, as long as he knows that there are emotions, no matter who they come from, under what circumstances, he thinks it is appropriate or not rationally , he can express a little sympathy, he can really appreciate the difference between forgiving others and himself.Never harshly singled out a strict and narrow moral balance to condemn anyone who is different from him.His gentleness and grace can really make many people feel ashamed. I can honestly say that at least he is much greater than most of us; From the perspective of human beings, sympathy should not be limited to the scope we have set.He is right, my friends, after all, how many people, how many things, how many emotions can we know?Which matter, which person does not have multiple views!For this reason, it is not surprising that Zhimo has many friends; it is also a very natural result that everyone who knows him has special feelings for him, no matter how deep or shallow.On the other hand, he himself has received little sympathy in the course of his life.Not only that, but he was almost unacceptable in society several times because of his ideal stupidity.But he never despised the sympathy he gave to others because of this, and his temperament never changed to be harsh and violent because of being stimulated. Who can deny that he has almost superhuman tolerance.

The most touching feature of Zhimo is his unbelievable pure innocence, his sincerity to his ideals, his seriousness in art appreciation, and his empathy, all of which are extremely rare.He stood in the rain and waited for the rainbow, he risked society's disapproval to fight for his freedom of love, he took the tortuous train to the countryside to pay homage to Hady, he abandoned temptations like doctors and packed his schoolbag to England, just to pay Russell As a teacher, because of a special situation, he was moved by a special moment. From then on, he took risks in his life and abandoned all his old careers. He just tried to write a few lines of new poems. The fate of trying new poems in recent years is not very exciting. , cynicism and scolding are just commonplace - he can often walk a few miles to pick a few stems of flowers, and spend a lot of trouble to see a friend to say a few words; these, and many others, are not mysteries that we can easily understand.When I say mysterious, I may actually be stupid or idiotic!
(End of this chapter)